Tag Archives: self-belief

A Moment Of Pure Joy

It’s funny isn’t it, how sometimes it’s the little things which make you pull up short and take stock. Last night I was dying on my arse halfway through the second of two back-to-back classes in the Kingdom of Pain when I noticed that the laces on one of my trainers had come undone. Almost without breaking my stride I bent down and re-fastened it, and then carried on. In that moment, I was hit by the best feeling of wellbeing ever.

I was transported right back in time, to a world where tying shoelaces was pretty damn near impossible. At my heaviest, there was too much padding in my mid-section to even bend forward and reach my feet, never mind tie a shoe lace. I’ve come a long way since then but in that moment, all the occasions where I had to sit on the edge of the bed and try and manoeuvre my foot into an errant shoe without actually bending down sprang to mind.

I remember having to psyche myself up to go for the laces…I’d grunt my way through it with my eyes bulging as I tried to bend my body and when I eventually managed it I’d emerge red-faced and sweating and horribly out of breath.  I remember buying a pair of Ugg boots which sat unworn in the box for months because they were very snug on my fat feet and I couldn’t bend down far enough or long enough to hold the back of the boots with two hands whilst I pushed my feet in. There’s no wonder the easy mechanic of tying my laces last night gave me a moment of pure joy. Life was hard back then.

It’s good to remember how bad things were because it makes me genuinely appreciate how much easier life is these days and it reminds me why this journey is so important, you know?

I got my gold seven disc from God of Pain last night, which signifies two months and one week of clean eating. I have just two more to collect before I’ve completed the three month challenge, which by happy coincidence started as I emerged from my Christmas food coma and hit the New Year with renewed determination. I don’t want it to end if I’m honest, I mean I have no intention of changing the way I’m eating because this is totally working for me right now but I must admit, having something to work towards has provided an extra layer of glue to keep my feet in the sweet spot.

You know how dodgy things were for me in the last three months of last year. I was on and off my diet, with my resolve all over the place, binging one minute and determined the next before falling off the wagon all over again and hating myself with alarming regularity. There were dark moments where I really thought I’d lost it to the point I wouldn’t get it back.

I’m so bloody grateful that I did. Your unwavering support and belief in me through each and every one of those fuck-ups made all the difference in the world. The moment you stop believing in yourself is the moment you quit, but you lot didn’t allow me to lose faith and that’s why I’m here now.

You guys rock 🙂

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Choosing My Reaction

targetweight

So yesterday morning I leapt out of bed, barely resisting the temptation to rub my hands together in glee as I manoeuvred the bitch in the bathroom onto her usual tile for the weekly weigh-in. Over the last week, my input has been outstanding. I finished the week knowing that my eating had been completely clean, and I’d accrued fifty five extra exercise points that I hadn’t even dipped into, I mean that’s hardcore, right? I was able to look myself square in the eye and know I couldn’t have done more.

One pound off. All that, and I lost one measly poxy pound. How is that even possible? Despite the usual routine of multiple step-ons on different tiles the bitch failed to yield so much as an extra ounce, and after twenty four hours’ reflection it still feels spectacularly unfair that a body that is still carrying so much blubber can only offer up one solitary fucking pound.

And breathe…I refuse to get down about it because don’t we all know how fast that makes the wheels come off? I’m trying to be philosophical, so I’m choosing my reaction carefully and after a lot of thought I have chosen to focus on the positives instead. Of which there are many, actually.

My shoulder is feeling better…God of Pain is slowly reintroducing kettle bells into my circuit training. (Asshole voice just spat out his morning coffee – you’re looking for positives and THAT comes out of your mouth first??? We HATE kettle bells, they’re a THING.) Well yes, I know I hate the blasted things but every time I feel the burn I know they’re working stuff that needs to be worked so I don’t need to enjoy them, I just need to embrace the discomfort and appreciate what they can do for me.

My shape is changing, so although the pounds are clinging like shit to a stick I’m prepared to concede that the the way I look continues to go in the right direction. People are noticing, you know? If my weight was dropping more quickly but I couldn’t see much of a difference in the way I looked I’d be even more pissed off, so on balance I’d rather have it this way around. I’m choosing to believe that I’ve got the whole muscle weighs heavier than fat thing going on under the surface, which feels more like a reason than an excuse.

My biggest victory of all this week? One chocolate biscuit and a cup of tea for supper on Saturday. Uhuh *nods* yes you really did hear me say one chocolate biscuit. And it wasn’t the last one either, you know like accidental self-control which doesn’t really count? There’s a whole packet in the cupboard, and I just had one. With fifty-five untouched exercise points on the table which were due to expire at midnight, I still just had one.

Go on, admit it…I am a rockstar 🙂

This week is going to take some careful thought. I’m working away the last two days of the week, so controlling my diet is going to be more of a challenge, and I’ll also have to miss three of the classes I normally go to. I’ve substituted them for different ones so I’m good with it. I can adapt. Plus, there’s a gym at the hotel we’re staying in so I’m all over that. And after a cracking walk yesterday with some of my Kingdom of Pain buddies, we’ve lined another one up for next Saturday…there won’t be a day where I don’t do something.

Onwards, right? Let’s see what the bitch can throw at me next week 🙂

 

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The Drawback Of Being A Mathematical Genius

dog

So, last weekend Charlie dog was booked into the puppy scrub for a bath and haircut. He goes out with his dog-walker and a gang of pups every day whilst I’m at work, including his bezzie mates Dave the Labrador and Kevin the Vizsla, and he’s a regular little mud-magnet. I swear down he could find a muddy puddle in the middle of the desert, you know? His favourite thing is to lower himself down into a patch of mud, whilst maintaining eye contact as if to say I know this drives you bat-shit crazy but I like the way it feels so I’m gonna do it anyway…I tend to keep his coat really short for that very reason, it’s just easier to keep him clean. So he has more cut and blow dries than I do, if we’re keeping count.

I dropped him off with a promise to return a couple of hours later, and the thought struck me that seeing it was such a pretty day, maybe it would be nice to leave the car at home when I went to collect him, so we could both enjoy the walk home. I clocked the mileage and it was a little over four miles – perfect, I could manage that…I had a plan.

Except, it was a blonde plan, right? Genius here in the stupid corner only realised three quarters of the way back to pick him up, on foot, that whilst Charlie’s walk would indeed be just over four miles, mine wouldn’t. Mine would be eight miles and then some. I’m so embarrassed even saying that out loud, I mean seriously? 

As soon as the penny dropped I felt like dropping to my knees and indulging myself with a full-blown tony bear tantrum, but in the end, what was the point? If I’d turned around I’d have walked six miles by the time I got home and then I would’ve had to walk the dog after I collected him anyway, so I didn’t have much choice other than to to suck it up and keep walking. My boy was at work, so there was nobody I could call and beg for help, and in any event I’m not sure I was ready to admit that I’d totally lost the plot. So on I trundled, muttering bad words under my breath with every step.

I’d been enjoying the walk up until that point. Once I realised that I’d done about three miles, with just over another mile to go before I was reunited with the pooch and then I had to do it all again in reverse, all of a sudden it stopped looking like fun. And for the next mile I felt like I was wearing lead boots, you know? I didn’t think I could do it, I’ve never even come close to walking that far before.

The Asshole voice immediately started chipping away at my head, obsessing over the fact that I was going to get blisters and insisted on doing a pain review every five minutes. He was also on high alert for any sign of protest from my dodgy knee…if the Asshole voice was to be believed, I was going to start falling apart very soon. Seemingly, fat old ladies have no right to believe they are capable of walking that far and it was bound to end in tears.

In case you’re wondering, eight miles and change equates to sixteen thousand seven hundred and twenty two steps. And it turns out that this fat old lady is more than capable of walking that far. Once I was a mile or so in to the return leg, following one very happy dog, I started to relax and give myself up to the rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other. That was probably around the time that I also started to believe that I could probably do it after all. And once that happened, even with tired legs I enjoyed it.

My anxiety slowly turned to glee as I mentally calculated how many exercise points I was accumulating. I passed the time by imagining bits of my arse melting away with every step. By the time we reached home, I felt euphoric. And once again I was forced to acknowledge the link between self belief and capability. That’s important. And it goes right back to one of my favourite quotes ever

“If you believe you can, or you believe you can’t, you’re right.”

I know I’ve mentioned it before but honestly, never a truer word was spoken 🙂

 

 

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